


Landing

by Skylark



Series: Writing Commissions [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Jargon, Medical Student Suga, Multi, Non-life-threatening Injury, Post-Canon, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 09:59:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12679563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark/pseuds/Skylark
Summary: Kenma is curled into a tight question mark of pain, clutching his left ankle. Kuroo crouches over him, hands hovering but not touching. Suga kneels beside them and both of their heads snap up.Kenma is injured during university volleyball practice and Suga, now a medical student, comes to the rescue.





	Landing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yrindor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yrindor/gifts).



> A lovely commission prompt from an equally lovely friend. My commission work can also be found on [my DW comm](https://thingwithfeathers.dreamwidth.org/). 
> 
> There's technical medical jargon in this fic: the talus is the knob of bone at the ankle, "medial" means towards the inside of the ankle, "lateral" means the outside, and the plantar ligament runs along the bottom of the foot.
> 
> Endless thanks to the small army of betas who helped me with this. This fic is over the word limit, oops

"Kozume-san!" Suga hears from the bench.

Seconds ago the university gym was bustling with after-hours practice, familiar background noise when studying his cardiovascular notes, but now the room is silent. A knot of players are gathering in the center of the court, with others ducking under the net or starting to move forward. Suga sees it all at a glimpse, like a photograph. 

He’s on his feet and pushing through the crowd before he realizes he’s moving.

"Excuse me, pardon me," he says. His voice is pleasant, pitched loud enough to carry over the crowd but not enough to startle. Hard-won training takes over, first from years as a vice-captain, and then from years of clinicals. He knows the fright and uncertainty reflected on every face. Suga spreads his smiles like a balm, patting each player as he passes. Calm spreads around him like ripples in a lake. 

When he reaches the innermost ring of the crowd, he taps a player on the shoulder—the one who first cried out, not yet used to calling Kenma by his first name. "Hiiragi-san, can you keep everyone else back?"

The first-year jumps, his eyes wide. "You're—"

"A medical student," he replies, smooth, and is rewarded by the relief that spreads across Hiiragi's face. "Clear us some space, all right?"

"Oh! Y-yes!" He nods. Suga beams, clapping him too hard on the back. 

He turns back, to the small space in the center of the crowd, and sees—

Kenma, and Kuroo. Kenma is curled into a tight question mark of pain, clutching his left ankle. Kuroo crouches over him, hands hovering but not touching. Suga kneels beside them and both of their heads snap up—Kuroo's eyes are narrowed and Kenma's are wide, but both are threatening.

Suga’s only been dating the two of them for a month; sometimes Kuroo says “my boyfriend” and looks at Suga, and it still takes him a moment to realize who he means. Sometimes the memory of Kenma seizing his sleeve and saying, “I want you,” clearly enunciated despite his small pout, seems more like a hallucination than anything.

Kenma’s chest is heaving with rabbit-quick breaths, his eyes wide with pain and self-focused fury. Kuroo leans over him as if he can shield him from suffering with his entire body. This is what makes sense, Suga thinks, this is the way he’s always seen them: Kuroo and Kenma as a contained unit, even within Nekoma’s seamless teamwork. _Who am I?_ he thinks.

Then he takes a deep breath and pulls up a calm smile. “It’s just me,” he says.

There's the barest second before recognition crosses both their faces. Kenma slumps onto the hardwood floor, eyes half-closing. Kuroo relaxes onto his haunches, relieved. Surprised fondness unfurls in Suga’s chest.

"Let me see," Suga says.

"He's," Kuroo starts, his voice fringed with hysteria. "You can try, but good luck. When I tried he nearly—"

"Let me see," Suga says more firmly, sparing a glance for Kuroo that quiets his nervous chatter. Kuroo blows out a huff of something that tries for laughter and falls short, then leans back, folding his arms. In response Suga shifts into the place Kuroo vacates, brushing his fingers against Kenma's clutching hands. "It's just me," he repeats, remembering the way Kenma treats him like a game he’s played through ten times. "It’s me, and Kuroo is right here."

There's a beat where Kenma’s hands remain stubbornly tense underneath Suga's fingers. He hisses, a small, weary sound, and his fingers uncurl one by one, twitching from the pain. Suga breathes, feeling Kenma’s trust settle on his shoulders like a palpable weight, and his eyes flick up.

There's a complicated expression on Kuroo's face, fondness and fear intermingled. People feel better when given a focus and Suga needs to know anyway, so he asks, “Can you tell me what happened?” 

His fingers skate across the thin skin covering his talus, palpating the medial and plantar ligaments, and Kenma's hands tremble but stay clear. Kenma’s always quiet but this is too quiet—he knows that sometimes people become nonverbal from the shock of an injury, and sees some of that wild muteness in his eyes and the savage curl of his fingers.

"He landed wrong after a set," Kuroo replies, his voice quiet with strain. "He just—crumpled." His voice trembles a little at the end, and Suga nods, knowing Kuroo won't want Suga to look at him right now. 

Kenma makes a dismissive noise at Kuroo’s word choice, drawing Suga’s attention. “He crumpled, huh? Landed wrong and fell?” Suga clarifies, keeping his tone light, nodding when Kuroo does. "That’s what I thought, but I wanted to be sure. It doesn't look too bad at first glance." He glances at Kenma, and his eyes soften. "Do you think you could sit up for me? With your legs straight out in front of you? And take off your socks and shoes."

"Will he be okay?" someone asks as Kuroo helps Kenma sit up. Kenma moves slowly, and they let him go at his own pace.

"I think so, but I'm still assessing him," Suga responds. "Shh, I've got to focus."

Kuroo lifts his head, and the look he gives the crowd makes them step back, murmuring.

It's only been a few minutes since Kenma fell but there's no immediate swelling, which is a good sign. "I'm going to move your ankles," Suga murmurs. "Tell me when it hurts and I'll stop." 

Kuroo reaches out and Kenma seizes his hands. Suga breathes out, remembering his training, and starts with the good foot first: flexing it forward, back, side to side, identifying Kenma's usual range of motion. 

When he reaches for the injured foot, Kenma winces and Suga’s hands freeze. They watch each other for a beat, Kenma's eyes wide and wary, before he turns away.

"He trusts you," Kuroo murmurs, a reminder.

"What about you?" Suga says, feeling the fragility of Kenma's ankle in his palms.

"You'd never hurt him." His voice is so warm that Suga has to look away. "Well," he amends, "not more than you had to." 

Kenma nods, his eyes still fixed on Kuroo’s hands.

He moves Kenma's left ankle much slower than the right. It's obviously tender, and Suga stops every time he sees him flinch, his heart twisting in his chest. But he can tell that the damage is on the lateral side rather than the medial, the most common type of ankle injury.

"It’s probably a sprain, not a fracture," he says. The fear in Kuroo's eyes lessens. "Still, we should go to the doctor and get an x-ray, just in case." His hands linger on Kenma's ankles, wishing he could press healing into them through touch alone.

"He'll be okay," Suga says to the listening crowd, helping to arrange Kenma so Kuroo can carry him piggyback. "We're going to take him to the doctor. Sorry to interrupt practice, everyone."

"I can give you a ride," another teammate offers, and Suga gives him a grateful smile. 

The three of them bundle into the back of the car. Suga rests his head on Kuroo's shoulder, feeling exhausted. Now that the crisis is over, the veil of professionalism lifts and the realization— _Kenma is hurt_ —sinks in.

It's not his first time seeing pain. He remembers when Hinata scraped his shin in the equipment room, his wide eyed trembling as Suga cleaned away the blood. He remembers Daichi's rueful grin after their match against Wakutani South, holding his jaw with his pupils two different sizes. He's alternated between comforting and scolding and panicked silence, but it's never felt like this—so sure of his ability to help, and yet so helpless. He'll be a doctor one day but he's not a doctor yet.

"You're trying to freak out, aren't you?" Kuroo says, shaking him out of his reverie. "Cut it out, you were amazing. My mind blanked out, I—I didn't know what to do.”

Kenma murmurs something, his tone dry and just out of Suga’s earshot, and Kuroo flushes. He’s about to reply when Suga interrupts, “I...didn’t do anything. Not really.”

Both of them turn to look at him. The passing streetlamps flash over Kenma’s two-tone hair, more black than blond these days. 

"You helped,” Kenma says, and Kuroo nods. Suga blinks and starts to turn away, but he’s stopped by a tap against his arm. When he looks up Kenma is frowning, his outflung hand open in Kuroo’s lap. He wiggles his fingers. “You helped,” he repeats.

Suga reaches for him and Kenma's stubby fingers slot between his, his grip firm. Kenma sighs, snuggling deeper into Kuroo's side. A rush of affection wells up inside Suga for his quiet boy and his watchful partner, for these people who love him as much as he loves them, who rely on him and find him worthy of their trust.

"If you're lucky, you should recover in a few days," Suga says. "If it's worse than I think it is, then it might be a few months."

Kuroo snorts. "At least he won't be bored while he's recuperating," he says, and they all pause, thinking of Kenma's game backlog. Kenma makes a pleased noise; Kuroo groans and Suga starts to laugh, but then—

"You'll be there too," Kenma says, and Suga stills. He glances at Kuroo, who lifts an eyebrow as if to say: _Well?_

Suga bites his lip, and then gives up: he smiles, his cheeks crinkling with it. "Of course," he agrees. "I'll be there every step of the way."


End file.
